by D. L. Kramer
"Sit down there," she instructed, motioning to a wooden bench beside a desk. Sitting across from him, she took his arm and unwrapped it, not flinching at the sight. "What happened?" she asked.
"I'd rather not go into that," Paki started.
Meda looked at him deliberately, then put the piece of tunic back over it and stood up. She walked into an adjoining room and returned with several things. Sitting down across from him, she unwrapped his arm and began washing it with a clean, wet cloth.
"So who was it?" she asked after a moment. "Sewati?"
"No," Paki answered, surprised she would think they'd be fighting like that. "But I don't want anyone to know, because I don't want them thrown out."
Meda finished cleaning the blood from around the cut then held the cloth over it to try to stop the new bleeding.
"You may need this sewn," she advised.
"I don't think it's that deep," Paki said. "Is it?" He already knew it was going to leave a scar, but didn't want it any worse than it had to be.
Meda looked up at him. "You're not exactly an apprentice who holds back," she pointed out. "It won't do you any good if this keeps coming open in the yard."
Paki sighed, knowing she was right. "I don't suppose you can do it, can you?" he asked.
Meda looked at him for a moment, then sighed. "Lord Mo'ani will want to know what happened," she pointed out. "And eventually he'd find out I helped you."
"No, he won't," Paki decided. "It's getting cool enough I can wear long sleeves at practice, and if you can keep it from opening again, no one will notice."
"I ought to send you to the cook," Meda said. Standing up again, she went and found a needle and thread, then returned to the bench. Threading the needle, she then took his arm. Holding it steady with one hand, she looked at him. "Ready?"
Paki nodded his head, holding the blood-soaked cloth under it to catch the blood as it ran down his arm.
At first, he winced with each stitch Meda put in. Soon, the area around the cut began to go numb, and by the time she finished, he only felt pressure from the needle. Meda broke the thread and took the cloth, wiping the last of the blood away.
Paki finally looked at his arm, surprised that she had only put in a few stitches.
"You'll probably want to keep it covered for the next couple of days," she advised. "In case it bleeds any."
Paki flexed his fingers and twisted his arm, amazed that the stitches didn't pull uncomfortably. "Where'd you learn that?" he asked.
Meda stood up and set her things on a nearby table.
"My father was an armsmith," she said. "Who happened to be blind in one eye. By the time I was ten, I was stitching his assorted cuts almost once a week."
"Adie told me what he was," Paki remembered. "But she didn't mention him being blind."
"Let's just say he had a good feel for when a blade was sharp enough," Meda shrugged.
Paki stood up, still flexing his hand. Luckily, it was his off hand, so he should be able to keep Mo'ani or Kile from finding out about it unless it got hit hard enough to break the stitches.
"Thank you," Paki said honestly. "I appreciate it."
"I'd say anytime," Meda shrugged, walking him to the door. "But I'd prefer you not show up with too many cuts like that, Young Master."
Paki winced. "You had to say that, didn't you?"
Meda nodded and opened the door for him.
Paki shook his head and left Meda's room. He was almost back to his bunk when he heard the gates of the Stronghold open. Glancing behind himself to see who it was, he saw Nicho's white coat in the torchlight as Kile led him in. Someone else walked beside him, leading another horse, but he couldn't see who it was.
Figuring it was probably only Mo'ani or Gharald, Paki let himself into his bunk. Tiimu jumped over to his bed as he undressed and climbed under the rough blanket. Bear rolled over to look at him, and Paki only nodded his head that everything was fine before rolling over to try to sleep.
Eight - "You're the one with that blasted horse"
Paki's arm was stiff and sore the next morning, making it hard to concentrate on his practice with Mo'ani. He didn't manage a single hit, but Mo'ani managed several, a couple very close to the cut. Paki's gauntlets didn't quite reach to cover it, and Mo'ani didn't want him wearing his chain, so he wore a long sleeved tunic and kept the sleeves rolled down, hoping it would both hide and protect the cut.
Mo'ani finally called an end to the practice and let Paki go with only a minimal lecture on his slowness. Not questioning the reprieve, Paki returned his things to his bunk, then went back up to the library.
Meda nodded to him as he walked in, then turned back to the two scrolls in front of her. Deciding to look for something different to read, Paki walked up and down the rows of freestanding shelves. After thumbing through several books, he settled on one outlining the last six kings' lives.
He was barely through the first chapter when Meda's voice carried to him.
"Captain, might I ask just what you think you're doing?"
"Givin' our guest a tour," Kile's voice responded evenly. "It might be convenient if 'e knew where 'e was goin'."
"But, captain--," Meda was obviously at a loss for words, something Paki didn't think she'd ever be with Kile.
"Don't worry, Lady," a new voice said, a gruff voice that was almost familiar to Paki. "Lord Olorun and Lord Mo'ani have done everything short of racking me to make sure of my reasons for being here."
"Ye know, that was Adie's suggestion," Kile added. "But for some reason, she backed down."
"Then I owe the lady my gratitude."
Paki set his book down and looked toward the front desk. His table was just around a bookshelf from it, and he could see Kile's cloak through the tops of the books. All he could make out of the stranger was a white tunic, and that he was close to Kile's size.
"Where's the lad?" Kile asked.
"Now I demand to know exactly what you're doing," Meda answered.
"Mo'ani wants 'em to meet on more friendly terms," Kile explained. "It's nothin' to get so upset about."
There was a moment of silence, then Meda spoke again.
"He went in that direction," she said. "His usual table's empty, so he might be sitting on the floor between shelves reading if he didn't find another table."
Paki briefly debated circling around and asking Meda who was with Kile before they found him, then decided to stay where he was. Picking up his book again, he turned the page and tried to read.
Moments later, Kile appeared at the end of the aisle.
"There ye are," he greeted, then turned and motioned to one side.
"What's going--," Paki stopped when Kile's "guest" appeared beside him.
"So you're the one with that blasted horse," Captain Janec said, leaning against the nearest shelf. "I owe that horse some broken bones." His straight hair was brushed back over the collar of his tunic and was peppered with grey. While he and Kile were close to the same height, Janec's build wasn't quite as toned, but he still carried himself with the ability of an experienced warrior.
"You had it coming," Paki said, keeping his voice even. The last time he had seen Janec was in Castyl shortly after meeting Kile. The stallion had taken an instant disliking to the church guard captain, and had kicked him to the far end of the opposite stalls.
"Aye, what we'll do when we think it's our duty," Janec nodded.
"Paki," Kile said. He walked to stand beside his table, Janec behind him. "Janec's left the Archbishop's ranks, and he's tellin' the truth about doin' so."
"So you're just going to trust him?" Paki asked.
"No," Kile shook his head. "But Adie and I 'ave known Janec for most our lives, and we don't lie to each other. If 'is intentions here are anythin' other than what 'e claims, we'd know." Paki's look of disbelief must have been easy to read as Kile continued. "And the horses would know. Nicho would 'ave finished what ye're stallion started when I tracked 'im down."
"Leave it to a Dw
ellers' horse to find me," Janec muttered.
Kile glanced at him. "That was plain stupidity," he said. "Ye're mare was in season, and Nicho just 'ad to find her."
"So why did you come to tell me this?" Paki asked, managing to hide his smile at Janec's mistake. It was no secret in the church guard ranks that many of the Mo'ani used Dwellers' horses, and it was certainly no secret that Kile did.
"Because ye're Mo'ani's apprentice," Kile answered. "And part of ye're trainin' with Mo'ani will now include trainin' with Janec."
"Won't that be a little obvious?" Paki asked. "Bear and I are already getting unhappy looks from the other apprentices." Although he could see how Janec could add important aspects to their training; he would know everything the church guards were taught. Mo'ani's statement of the strength of the army being trained now jumped to the front of his mind.
"We'll take care of that, too," Kile promised. "But Janec will be helpin' in their trainin' as well, so they shouldn't notice."
"All right, enough," Meda's voice sounded from behind them. "If you're going to keep discussing this with the Young Master here, then take it outside. Either that, captain, or quit swallowing and dropping letters."
Paki chuckled, and he caught a glimpse of Janec's faint smile. He'd forgotten how upset Meda got at Kile's accent.
Kile turned to look at Meda.
"And ye're goin' to throw us out?" he asked.
Meda walked to stand in front of Kile. "I don't care how many pieces you teach them to cut each other into, but while the students and apprentices are in here, they're in my territory." She reached over and pulled a book off the nearest shelf. "If you're going to discuss things in here, then discuss this." She slapped the book into Kile's stomach, then turned and walked back to her desk when he caught it.
"I think she has a great deal of admiration for you," Janec commented absently. "And I dare say you're a little afraid of her."
Kile sighed and put the book back on its shelf. "The only thing about Meda that scares me is that she always 'as three daggers on 'er, but I've only been able to spot two at a time."
Paki paused, recreating an image of Meda in his mind. He didn't see anything that looked like a dagger, or even a sheath. He'd definitely have to spend more time in the library now, trying to figure out where she was hiding them.
"I guess we've been excused, though," Kile finished. He looked back to Paki. "Don't be late for practice."
"I won't," Paki promised. "I don't really want Gharald dragging me down to the yard and making an example of me."
Kile clapped him on the shoulder and he and Janec turned and walked from the library. Paki noticed that Kile kept one hand on the hilt of his sword as the two men walked out. He would only trust Janec so far. When they were gone, Meda came back over to his table.
"And what do you think you're doing?" she asked him.
"Uh...reading?" Paki asked in return.
Meda tilted her head to look at him. "You don't read geneology books."
Paki paused to look at the cover of the book he had chosen. "It looked interesting," he shrugged.
Meda sighed. "How's your arm?"
"Sore," Paki answered. "Mo'ani about killed me this morning. Maybe I should switch to a single-handed sword until it's healed."
"That would raise too many questions," Meda shook her head. "Watch it and let me know if it gets infected or too swollen."
Paki nodded his head. "Something tells me I'm going to get hurt a lot in the next couple of weeks," he said. He turned back to his book as Meda returned to her desk.
When it was time for breakfast, he returned his book to its shelf and left the library. Just before he left, he caught a glimpse of Rena at the end of one aisle, putting scrolls on a shelf. Glad she seemed to be doing all right with her new duties, he went down to meet Bear in the dining hall.
They both noticed that they didn't receive nearly so many dark looks. As they made their way to the training yard after eating, the younger apprentices seemed willing to talk with them. Paki quickly caught Aralt's eye, and the older apprentice shrugged.
After they were all accounted for, the archers separated while the others put on their chain and gauntlets. Paki made his way over beside Aralt and Liyol as he adjusted the buckle on his sheath and swung it across his back.
"So what's going on?" he asked.
"Nothing," Aralt shrugged again.
Paki gave him a disbelieving look as he pulled on his gauntlets.
"Let's just say word has gotten around that you two might be able to hold your own," Liyol said.
Paki looked from Liyol back to Aralt. "How's your head?" he asked, serious.
"How's your arm?" Aralt returned.
Paki shrugged. "Hurts," he said honestly.
Aralt and Liyol exchanged glances.
"So does my head," Aralt responded.
"All right, everyone," Gharald's voice carried to them from the center of the yard.
Paki turned to pay attention, as did the older apprentices.
"From today on, your training schedules will be split," Gharald began. "All second and third year apprentices will spend three days a week training up at the village's mountain shelter. First year apprentices will spend the other two days there."
"Training at what, sir?" one of the third year apprentices asked.
"How to fight like a church guard," another voice answered from the far side of the yard. Everyone but Paki turned to see who it belonged to. He had recognized Janec's voice immediately.
Low murmurs drifted through the gathered apprentices. Paki doubted many of them recognized Janec for who he was, but the prospect of learning how the other army was being trained obviously interested many of the young men.
"If you don't mind us asking, sir," another third year student said. "How would you know how the church guards are trained?"
Paki looked at where Janec was standing, then saw Kile and Mo'ani to one side. Janec turned to Kile, obviously deferring to him.
Kile leaned back against the fence.
"Ye're new teacher is none other than the former captain of the Archbishop's guard," he explained. More murmurs rose from the apprentices. "Unfortunately, 'is commission isn't welcome 'ere, so ye don't 'ave to call 'im Captain Janec."
"Then what do we call him, captain?" someone called.
Kile turned to Janec, letting him answer. Janec, in turn, looked to Mo'ani. Mo'ani looked at Kile, then sighed visibly.
"You have all wondered at one time or another what happened to Lord Garyn when his son took the hold from him," Mo'ani said. He looked at Janec. "And now you know."
Paki felt his eyes widen. Janec was Lord Garyn? That explained how Kile and Adie had known Janec for most of their lives. His thoughts were interrupted when Gharald called for their attention again.
"Second and third year apprentices, go get your horses," he instructed. "First year apprentices, stay in the yard."
Everyone broke up, heading where they were told and talking among themselves. Paki briefly wished Bear was there so he could have someone to talk to.
They were soon paired off for the first round, and despite the pain in his arm, Paki managed to win his match. He knew he had won it more from the weight of his sword than skill, but wasn't going to complain.
He lost the second and third matches, but put up enough of a fight he doubted anyone would suspect anything.
After his last match, he sat on the side of the training yard's fence to watch the apprentices who were still fighting. The stallion's sudden presence in the front of his mind rang with warning the same time he heard his name called. Paki turned to see Tavish hurrying towards him.
"What is it?" he asked, knowing something was wrong with the stallion. He swung his legs over the fence as he sheathed his sword. The look in Tavish's eyes told him it was serious.
"You'd better come," Tavish said. "The stallion's down."
Paki jumped from the fence and followed Tavish back to the stable. He reached for the s
tallion's mind again and was surprised at how weak he was. He hadn't given any indication of being ill when Paki had checked him last.
When Paki reached his stall, the stallion struggled to lift his head, then let it drop heavily onto the straw. Paki pulled open the door and knelt beside him.
"What happened?" he asked, stroking the stallion's neck and looking up at Tavish.
"I'm pretty sure it was the infection from his leg," Tavish said. "I thought we'd caught it before it could spread." Paki could hear Tavish's disappointment in himself for not noticing something was wrong. "I'm sorry, Paki."
Paki nodded slowly, then pushed his way further into the stallion's mind, searching for exactly what was wrong. He ran his hands down the stallion's shoulders, stroking his dark hair.
"It's his heart," he said after a moment. "It's beating too hard, and it hurts."
"The infection probably took this long to get to it," Tavish nodded, his voice low.
"Is there anything at all you can do?" Paki asked, turning to look up at him.
Tavish shook his head slowly. "If we'd caught the infection in his leg sooner, it probably wouldn't have spread. If it's affected his heart, all we can do is make him comfortable."
Paki looked back at the stallion. The horse blinked back at him, as if he understood what was happening. For a moment, Paki wanted to get up and run to the cathedral, offering Halona everything he had if she'd help the stallion again. A voice inside him told him it wouldn't do any good this time. The stallion was too sick.
"You took care of everything you thought was wrong," he said, looking back at Tavish. "How long do you think it'll be?" He couldn't bring himself to say more than that.
"A few days," Tavish shrugged. "Maybe as long as a week."
Paki nodded again, sighing. "I think I'll stay with him for a while," he said quietly. "Could you have Kile come in after he's done?"
Tavish nodded and turned away from the stall. Paki leaned forward, resting his head on the stallion's shoulder.
"Thank you," he whispered. "For saving my life."
The stallion snorted, trying to turn his head towards Paki. Paki sat back up, then stood and stepped over the huge horse to sit by the front of his head. The stallion picked up his head again and set it on his master's legs. Paki stroked his mane until Kile came in.